Pets...

I have never been without pets for any length of time until I moved to Michigan -- a place that does Winter, thus requiring that said animal would live indoors 24/7.

We spent several years in student housing, which is nominally a 'no pet' environment. In practice this meant that people who had critters took great care that the dog, cat, bird, lizard, snake, turtle, etc., did not bother anyone else, and thus hazard landlord wrath.

Having been raised in the moderate climes of Southern California, I can't imagine being able to live year round with dogs or cats indoors with me. We always had yards and fields and woods for them to play in, and my cats clearly felt that their 'very important cat business' was mostly outdoors.

In Michigan, the only place I've lived that 'does' winter, having a cat or dog means a lot of extra work. When I was a kid, we had dogs who lived in the yard or barns. Ditto cats, although one barn cat moved into the house with us after her first meal. (It was leftover spaghetti.) Even she went outdoors to do her business, however, and trained us when to open said door or window for her.

Dogs, especially big dogs, need to be 'walked' several times a day in order to be healthy and to prevent them from eating your couch in frustrated boredom. Even if people have a yard, it won't be big enough and the weather clement enough for the dog to have ready access. And picking up dog poop is NOT my fav activity, TYVM!

Cats don't need to be walked -- and I've only known a handful that would even consider it -- but they do need exercise and a litter box. They need playtime and entertainment. And that litter box smells, even when 'cleaned.'

Part of my problem is exactly that: I'm extremely (according to my family) sensitive to odors. I can detect a rotting grape under a coffee table two houses down the street (also according to my family).

Dogs smell, even before they have discovered that lusciously decomposing roadkill with which to perfume themselves. Cats don't smell, if they aren't spraying, but shed fur a much as dogs do. And their litter smells. A lot.

Further, I have too much biology background to tolerate the idea of kissing my pets, especially on the mouth. Or of letting them slather me, like, while I'm eating. Part of that probably results from having a mother in the first group of nursing students who learned about germs, all those years ago... Why, she never let her kids barefoot until our teens, and then only at the beach!

But I love animals and have always had them in my life. The first ten years were spent on a farm with cows, rabbits (3000), turkeys, chickens, ducks, banties, geese, pigs, dogs, cats and guinea fowl.
Only the dogs and one cat were pets, but all had lives separate from the human habitation. Even when my family moved into town, we had chickens and dogs, cats and birds.
While in college, I even had a fling at fancy mice -- mostly culls from the bio department's attempt to breed a triple recessive, chocolate mouse. (They succeeded, but only my cat thought the results tasted anything like their name...)

Actually, I can't imagine living without other species also in my space. That said, I've reached the age when reality is forcing me to wonder if I could reliably care for them, whether plants, animals or -- ahem -- people. (Yes, teenagers are a separate species, but that's for another post. And besides, I don't have any of those anymore.)

See, here's the main problem: I'm obsessively committed to providing the very best care for my pets, and my definition of 'best' is rigorous. So I'm afraid I won't be able to live up to that standard, these days.

For instance, I personally make pet food from scratch. Presently, my pets consist of 7 rescued budgerigars (budgies) who are my Birdie Soap Opera. So, buying fresh seeds and making my own birdseed mix isn't too demanding. I also provide a variety of organic greens, veggies, wild grasses, maple and apple and willow branches, and birdie breads that I bake for them. They have flight time out of the cage every day. Some days for several hours, some for only a few minutes until somebirdy goes for the houseplants or the light boxes or the tall clock and everybirdy is then shooed back into the cage. They know the routine.

I used to prepare food for my cats, cooking it myself. Commercial pet foods, especially the cheap ones, rely on a lot of food stuffs that aren't healthy for cats. Marketing departments know, however, that most cats will eat just about anything if enough tuna juice is poured over it!

The fact that most inexpensive dry pet foods are corn based, and most of the protein is from 'animal byproducts' -- plus domestic cats are not by nature water drinkers but rely on their prey to supply both water and greens -- means that kibble just isn't a good choice. Those 'meat byproducts' are used to increase the protein content, even though the proteins are not exactly digestible or high quality, which is a bad enough thing. But worse, the source is not natural prey species... (Neither is a cow, of course, but muscle and organ beef is better than hooves and hide.)

Most shocking however: Did you ever wonder what happens to the unwanted dogs and cats that are killed every year by various animal control agencies? Yep, collected by companies who also collect dead and diseased cows, pigs, chickens, sheep and other protein sources. These 'meats' are processed and turned into 'meat by-products' that are used to make pet foods and animal feeds. That dead dairy cow is ultimately fed back to her sisters!

But that soapbox rant digresses from my current delemma...

I hesitate to even consider a dog because not only do I feel inadequately informed or inclined to train and socialize it, but also, I doubt that I even want to take it outside and walk it 3-5 times a day in winter weather. It might actually be good for me to get that much exercise, too, but please! And then to clean it up afterwards? And deal with the smell of wet dog?

No, probably won't happen as long as I am in Michigan.

Cats might, if I could provide them with a safe way to be a cat, indoors and out. I couldn't confine a cat to an apartment any more than I can clip my birds wings to make them flightless unbirds. But in this part of the world, it would be unsafe and uncomfortable to allow cats the run of the barns and woods and snow and coyotes. Besides which, cat doors would invite in a whole army of unwanted critters!

Both cats and dogs need mental stimulation, human interaction, and exercise. Dogs, especially, need friends of their own kind. Do I have multiple critters, or do I spend a good deal of time arranging play dates? I don't really want to encourage foraging in my cupboards, garbage cans and counters, but hunting for snacks is great entertainment and helps prevent obesity and depression, especially in cats.
There is another issue, as well. Providing a safe environment with plenty of food turns the reproductive switch to the ON position. Preventing that natural process results in unnatural stresses, not to mention expense.

There is a long list of reasons for labeling my current pets, the Birdy Soap Opera! "Twin Beaks, As the Bird Turns," has a cast driven to make baby birds, and I am preventing this from happening, so all that reproductive energy gets focused in other ways: chewing, squabbling over perches, chewing, searching for suitable nesting spaces outside the cage, arguing over those spots, chewing, competing for mates, chewing..........

At one point, I had almost an open door policy for unwanted Budgies, but I am no longer replacing those lost to old age and fatty liver disease. The Birdy Soap Opera cast is down to 7, all but one being 6 or 7 years old.

We are retired and have more time to spend with pets, or so I always believed it would be. But everything from chores to fun seems to take much longer than I'm sure I remember it used to when I was still young and virile..... So, I'm trying to decide if and what pet should be introduced to my current lifestyle when the Birdy Soap is finished.

Maybe I should just join the latest urban fad and get chickens......

(Which fad, BTW, is causing most humane societies great anxiety, as they have never been set up to deal with anything more than cats and dogs, usually. They don't have a place to house stray and unwanted chickens. Just as the aftermath of those cute Taco Bell commercials was a flood of unwanted and unmanageable chihuahuas, so they expect a similar flood of chickens!)

Let's see: do I want to get up and thaw frozen water dishes and feed hens at 6am, noon, and 6pm daily? Do I want to be washing chicken poop off my boots, gloves, eggs, etc.......Not to mention dealing with dogs, coyotes, squirrels, weasels, snakes, mice, rats, flies and other critters bent on having chicken (or chicken feed) for lunch?!

Nope. Guess not.

Maybe I'll cultivate friends with pets, and go enjoy them till I'm tired of it, and come home refreshed without having to do the chores.

Yeah. That's the ticket!

Listen, God? We have to talk...

I mean, I have questions (okay, some complaints about stuff for which I'd like some explanations, too) and what with menopause and all, figured I'd better make a list so I can remember them when I finally can ask them in person.

Now, these issues aren't really all that new; I've had many of them since I was a small child. Was raised to ask questions and find answers, and looking back, I'm pretty sure I wasn't exactly expelled from Sunday school, but the teachers were probably relieved when I stopped coming at about 5 years old.

See, I wasn't content to listen quietly to the Bible stories, color my picture and eat my cookie. I wanted to discuss the stories. I had questions! A four year old with questions that don't have nice concrete answers is a pain in the you-know-where.

So, failing Sunday school, and later turning to science and literature for answers that were equally unsatisfying or unforthcoming...I began collecting this list. It seemed reasonable and I thought likely to stay with me, but since some days I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast, perhaps recording them someplace other than my head is a good idea.

And I'm not talking about particularly abstruse theological, or even scientific questions, here. It is true that I have some of those, but so many other people also do that surely I'll be reminded. Right?

So, okay, even scientists can't figure out why the sky is dark at night, since all the laws of physics currently understood do not explain how that could happen -- at least, not without a lot of handwaving and magic numbers to fudge the equations.

No, I want answers to the important stuff. Like, why is it that your favorite dress, the one that fits perfectly and looks smashing, is the one that wears out the fastest? And that truly ugly mistake you picked up at Macy's sale ten years ago still fits and looks brand new.

Here's my list, not sorted by priority, yet:

1. Why is it that when children are too small to be much help they are intensely interested in chores, but when they are finally big enough to do them well, can't be bothered?

2. In the over all design of things, how come housekeeping has to be done every day? My main definition of Heaven is that once done, chores just stay done.

3. In farming, we hope for a good yield, but when it happens, the prices fall because everyone else also had a good year. What purpose is that in our lives?

4. If entropy is true, why does life consistently evolve into more and more complexity?

5. Or, in general, why are there so many paradoxes?

6. And don't get me started on menopause or the whole post will list questions, moans, whining and complaints!

7. Where does all that rubber go that wears off the tread on my tires?

8. Why design an entire creation so that the critters in it have to figure it all out by themselves, if there is a Plan? (This is a whine, really, about having to do homework and taking the test.)

9. How come when I plant my garden to have enough squash to share with the wildlife, said critters only attack the carrots & tomatoes & beans, and then my neighbors and family begin to pretend they aren't at home when they see me coming to their doors with bags in my hands?

10. Why can't I get my cat to sit for a decent portrait instead of contorting herself into poses of nether regions or turning her back whenever I get out the camera?

11. Okay, so I'm the ant who toiled and sacrificed in order have the wherewith all the survive the winter, and now some grasshopper who spent his time having fun and buying all those things I lived without, comes by and needs access to my stores. Or worse, his children need me and mine. What am I supposed to learn from that?

12. When I was young and virile and full of energy, I looked at the world and saw things I could fix so it would be better. Now I'm old, decrepit and tired, and just about all of the things I tried to fix are still broken. Every thing I built or completed has been torn down, allowed to fall down, or ignored by those for whom it was intended. As soon as I put down the load, it was just left lying on the ground, without anyone picking it up and carrying on. Don't give me a bad time about being grumpy!

13. Am I supposed to concentrate only upon relationships and spiritual endeavors, instead of material concerns? If so, who's going to wash the dishes and remember to pay the bills?

14. Okay, why are there bills? Diseases? Floods?

15. Why do humans refuse to learn from history? Why do institutions originally designed to utilize experience and history, allow, for instance, all those homes to be built on the Sacramento flood plain beneath Folsom Dam, which has been allowed to crumble into dangerous condition due to deferred maintenance? This appears to me to be a design flaw in the species!

16. And speaking of design flaws: why do cows walk like their feet are killing them? Horses, deer, dogs -- even elephants -- walk smoothly and gracefully; cows plod like they weigh tons and bought shoes too small.

17. Why did the salinity of the ocean increase gradually for millenia, and now seems to have reached equilibrium? Equilibrium with what?

18. Ices ages and hot dry spells seem to have alternated fairly regularly for most of the planet's history. We study this history as averages, but is the planet one whole living organism, whose time scale is just beyond an individual human's ability to sense it?

19. History as it has been collected shows that the human species is designed to work in groups in order to survive, yet regularly develops belief systems based on the notion of individual primacy and competition. Another design flaw? Humans must depend upon one another to grow, develop and be happy, but consistently deny those constraints in order to wander off in other directions.

2o. Why is it that the very foods that cause the most pain to my aging body are the ones that taste the best and are my favorites?

21. It is absolutely proven that there is no cure for death. Why are we still looking for one?

22. Why is fussing so much a part of me that even when things are going well in my life, I'll borrow other people's issues to worry about? And not even just people: I fuss when my MIL's potted plants are wilting from lack of water. Or when the neighbor's chickens want out of their coop to roam the farm yard looking for bugs. Or that the neighbor across the road has posted no parking signs, so that hunters must park their trucks teetering on the edge of a ditch big enough to swallow a school bus. These are deer hunters, who walk through the brush beside and behind where we live to reach 60+ acres of swampy woods. There is less than a foot of gravel beside the pavement and deep ditches mostly on both sides of our shoulderless country road. They get tickets if their trucks are too close to the pavement, and I worry that some of them park so far down the slope of the ditch that the next big truck that whizzes by will blow them over. And it would be far safer for them to park across on the side which does not have a ditch along this quarter mile stretch, if it weren't for the new no parking signs. Etc., etc.

23. Why IS the sky dark at night? "God divided the heavens and the earth and the day and the night," is no more vague an explanation than the magic constants inserted into the quantum equations presented in my physics class.

24. For that matter, why didn't my family refrain from tossing muddy book bags, not to mention dirty socks, on the dining room table -- even though I told them time and again why it was unsanitary, unsightly, and made me crazy? Ditto: wiping dirty shoes before walking into the house, hanging jackets in the closet directly in front of them instead of dropping them on the floor by the door, or throwing away the candy wrapper in the wastebasket by their elbow instead of just leaving it on the table, floor or couch? These are mysteries of life!

25. Why am I always the last one to realize I've just made a fool of myself? Like, why is it 40 years after the fact that I suddenly look up and see how ridiculous was some project or other over which I spent much time and energy? I suppose that's like asking why I have (had) red hair and freckles, but what was the point of that design decision?

No doubt I will continue to add to this list, but right now I need to shower and do some housekeeping. Plus learn new software because the old one that worked fine for me no longer runs on this new computer -- which, while I'm at it, was perfectly good, too, but being 6 years old was no longer able to keep up with all the new software and was no longer being serviced. Ditto my favorite software.

Sigh.

Meanwhile, summer is over, frosty mornings with ice mist as the sun comes up are here.

Movin On -- Ur Doin It Rite!

A dear friend finally lost his battle with pancreatic cancer a few months back, and had kept us all up to date with a blog.

Now his widow continues to share with her own blog. It's very moving, includes pix and some poetry that are her way of dealing with the grieving process. Susanne is a writer, and has put into words most beautifully what I -- and many others, I'm sure -- have experienced.

This poem today really hit the spot for me, and works for so many loved ones gone.

Stay or Now Go?

I rock in your chair, and lay in our bed
I sleep with your shirt on, your jacket nearby
I wander the rooms, touching the dreams
Of a beautiful life we once led

I hold in my hands the things you once touched
And ask do they stay or now go?
I hold in my hands the intimate wear
And ask do they stay or now go?
I hold in my hands the books you once read
And ask do they stay or now go?

Some things are easy, a moment of thought
Some things are hard, and wake me at night
Some things are…just things
Some have layers of memory
Some mean more to others, and less to me
Are these things you? Are they me?
Perhaps yes and yet no
And I ask do they stay or now go?

When you live in my heart in permanent estate
Do the things even matter? Do they stay or now go?
Does some of you linger on all of these things
How much do I hold, do I care?
Some day they’ll be dust, irrelevant, gone
It’s your life that must matter, not things

And yet, there is comfort, though bittersweet tears
When I touch what you touched, and wear what you wore
They do bring you close, help me feel you nearby
So, I’ll choose at least some of the things to now keep

~ Susanne Mariella Alexander, October 14, 2009

Perspective is Everything...

Had a small collision with reality this past weekend...

I was cleaning out the basement storage unit of our erstwhile apartment and came upon a couple little yellow bags of rock salt that DH has on hand to winterize the cars. Thinking that we were definitely going to need some this winter, since our new place out in the country is without maintenance staff all set to clear the walks and porch before we get up, I decided to add them to my pile of things to go.

Oof! I made it most of the 50 feet to the base of the stairs, then had to set one down and carry them one at a time the last few feet.

Talk about wimpy, decrepit old ladies! I couldn't even carry a couple 10 pound bags of salt!

I left them at the base of the stairs and went slowly up to our third floor apartment, completely spent and feeling hot and tired and sort of depressed. After a half hour of sitting with a glass of ice water and kibitzing my husband as he was packing his stuff, I went back down to get my MIL (who lives in a first floor apartment) and head on out to the 'ranch' so to speak. DH would follow later, having packed his car...

I left the many empty boxes and trash at the top of the basement stairs for DH to take out to the dumpster (it was just too far to walk any more that day) but I decided he would probably forget the two bags of salt I had told him were still at the bottom of said stairs. So, I went downstairs and brought them up, one bag at a time, one step at a time...lift bag, lift other bag, step up, lift bag, lift other bag, step up, etc.

Finally, I get to the top of three short flights (4 + 7 + 4) and then -- THEN! -- I take a good look at the little bags and discover:
All of a sudden I don't feel so wimpy any more.

I mean: ME, aged 60 something, carried not one, but TWO 25 pound bags -- at the same time! -- across a basement...

Heh. From that angle, I'm pretty hot stuff.

Still.

Retirement Planning...

I'm coming to realize that probably the main reason I never actively engaged in financial planning was that I never really believed that I would need to retire. (Another strong reason is a total lack of trust in financial institutions -- no doubt inherited from my parents, who had lost their innocence about banks and insurance during the Great Depression.)

I've always believed that I could continue to sell my skills (which, admittedly, are mostly mental, not physical) for as long as I needed to. It never occurred to me that people retired because they had to, because they just couldn't do the work any longer.

This is a very shocking realization! But the truth pops up to remind me daily that I am no longer in my twenties, and I can't keep the pace that I'm sure I remember I once could. (Of course, the memory is going, too, so I could be wrong about that.)(My sentiments, exactly. I don't care if it's good for me; I didn't sign up for it!)

My life has changed so much that when I take out the albums and study the record of family life therein, I actually wonder, "Who was that woman!?"

Followed by the corollary, "Who am I now?"

It is a shock to look in the mirror and see a stranger -- moreover, a stranger I never expected to be. And learning how to be mortal at this late a date is proving a challenge, LOL.

So, how am I to go about planning for retirement, when that means I will probably not be doing much of anything I have done before. Since I am less physically and mentally fit than I had planned, and probably not going to stop that deterioration, what am I going to be doing?

In short, what am I going to be when I grow up?

Do I change careers yet again? Do I consider retraining? Do I upgrade the computer and move into the 21st Century? Do I move to Mexico, or some other retirement community, where the cost of living matches my Social Security check? (That's assuming I believe in SS, which I don't and never have had any trust would be there for me. Alas, current events are supporting my paranoia...)
Truthfully, the old eagerness for new places and new ideas and new learning just isn't there. I have no enthusiasm for reentering the love/hate relationship of learning new computer software (or I'd upgrade to Ubuntu and open source).

This reluctance may not be entirely my fault, or the result of aging. It used to be that change happened far more slowly, and there was time to get used to the idea. I could actually become proficient in a software application before it went to the next version!

The world actually may be moving too rapidly for me to follow any longer. And seems to be going directions I don't much like, for that matter. I'm just hanging on by my fingernails!

It does not help my ego that I grew up hearing these very complaints from my parents and all their siblings as they reached the age I am now.

The trick for me, daily, is to resist turning into a crochety old woman, complaining and whining about some decline from the Good Old Days... This is a challenge, too, seeing as that is exactly how I remember my aunts and uncles! I have role models to fight off.

I need to remember...
This is only the Fall of my life...

Not the Winter...

I can still rise up anew, and perhaps like the butterfly, I don't have to plan the details, but simply go with the flow.

And trust the process!

You are not broken...

(Bad hair day??)

In my frustration with mental and physical constraints on my activities of late, I may have overlooked a critical aspect of this life, which is learning how to define myself by who I am, instead of what I do.

When I'm busy doing a zillion things, I feel competent and useful -- and thus lovable. When I am sidelined (by comparison to past experience) I can start doubting my worthiness.

Religion teaches us that God created us imperfect, and loved us anyway. Believing that is a challenge, but my husband said something recently that has really helped me.

He reminded me of the piano that used to sit on a makeshift stage in the dining room at LouHelen Baha'i School in Michigan, USA. Family retreat sessions there often included a sort of amateur night performance on one of the evenings, and the kids were especially encouraged to share their talents.

In those days, the piano was not regularly tuned, and so could sound pretty bad for any child presenting his recital piece. On this particular evening, several small children had proved it was really out -- until an older music student headed for Juilliard in a few days sat down to play.

The difference in sound was stunning! You couldn't tell it was the same instrument.

The point being that a skilled musician can make beautiful music even with a poor instrument.

So when I was moping that I had become a mostly useless tool in my old age, or at very best, a considerably dulled or broken one -- my lovely husband said,

"You are not broken if God can still make music with you. If you can add a little more love to the world -- if you can increase the gladness in the hearts of those around you -- you can still move the world."


I hope that when you are feeling tired, frustrated, overwhelmed and inadequate for the task, you will remember that God can work miracles with any tool, if only that tool is at hand. Be there, align yourself with the Greater Good, and you will be useful, too.


It's a promise.

Thoughts on the View from 'Over the Hill'

I've been putting together my will and testament lately. The will portion is done, essentially, being concerned with just the material things, and therefore pretty straightforward.

But I'm finding the testament to be challenging. I'm stressing over what have I to testify, after all these years I have lived, so far.

(Wipe those smiles off your faces! Your time is coming. Soon.)

It is never a comfortable thing to feel one's life might have been spent largely in vain -- but there you are. It has taken me this long to wonder about how successful I have been at whatever it was I figured life was about!

Not that the things I've done were the issue -- no matter that I thought they were -- though there are, of course, some that I regret. It is more that my motivations need to be examined. And -- perish the thought! -- may have been faulty...

Good deeds -- or bad ones, for that matter -- are colored by why we do them. At this point in my life, I'm questioning this issue much more than ever before.

Never let it be said that I am a quick study...
Perhaps menopause provides (forces?!) time for reflection. It's very hard on the ego to realize that all that deep thinking I thought I was doing, wasn't. That maybe I wasn't such hot stuff as I believed? (Or worse, that everybody else knew it before I did!)

"Time makes all men poets," some famous person, whose name escapes me, said. If poets are people who help the rest of us see what hardly anyone else had noticed (or admitted to), then I can see the pundit's point. Because I've had lots of time recently, since I can no longer fill my days doing a million things at once. This can be a major problem for someone who has evidently defined herself by what she was doing...

The truth is that I have never been much for poetry. Stuff never made any sense to me.

Until lately?

Not that I have developed 'eyes to see,' or anything so profound as that -- but lately some poets seem to be speaking to me directly. "Killing me softly, with his song," to quote Joanie Mitchell.

Baha'u'llah, 19th century Prophet of the Baha'i Faith, said that, "True loss is for a man to live his life in ignorance of his true self."

Looking back, it seems to me that I have spent a good deal of time and energy trying NOT to see my true self. Which is very hard on the ego, since I think -- thought -- I was so well developed and knowledgeable...

But denial takes energy. And even for redheaded supermoms, the energy eventually wanes... "We are not pleased," to quote queen Victoria. (Wasn't she also a redhead??)

True, I've spent much time and energy trying to be good -- or, at least, do good -- but looking back forces me to wonder at my reasons. And whether those reasons are worthy. Not always a very comfortable contemplation.

Why is it important to me that I do good, for instance? Well, on those occasions, of course, when I have managed it!

Did a good deed happen as the natural consequence of being good? Or because I wanted the world (and specific people) to think me good?

Was my intent to please God -- or some more temporal authority -- or did I actually have loftier goals? (And does it matter? I mean, this self contemplation thing might just be avoiding the chores this morning...)

Maybe not even saints are completely free to be good for goodness' sake. Maybe we are all still being and doing good mostly to please someone else. Certainly, that is how as children we learn to be and do everything. What does a two year old know of tooth decay and street traffic and how disorder in one's life causes depression?? They have parents for that.

No, the desire to please, the need to be loved, may eventually transmute into habits that are good and good for us -- at least as parents we hope this for our kids. But it looks to me that as adults, much of what we do may still be based on old habits of thinking and doing. We can hope these are beneficial, but we haven't actually thought them out.

How much of that basis is still just hoping that our parents will love us? Or, for the religious, that God will love us? Having been raised by humans does pretty well train us that to be loved, we must be "good," however that is locally defined.

True religion teaches that we are already loved by our Creator, and the purpose of being good is found elsewhere. (False religion teaches us that we have to do things to please God and receive the reward of being loved.)

So, if we are loved, in all our imperfections, then why worry about being/doing better?

Maybe because we remember -- and grow -- better if we discover truth for ourselves? From my own experience, that is certainly true! I never paid much attention to 'The Oldies' giving me advice...I mean, they were OLD!

And should I expect you, my children, to listen to me? Even if I put it in writing that you will have to read at least once, after I am gone from this temporal life.

I love you all --
the one I birthed,














those acquired by marriage,











the fosters, and the many others in looser arrangements --

























all those who have come to me over the course of my life.

I want you to have lofty goals, to succeed, to be healthy and happy. There are things I managed to learn (mostly the hard way) -- stuff about how it works, stuff that I can see and that maybe you don't -- that I'd like to share.

The question I now have is about how much I can guide, how much power I might have to help or dissuade from errors, or even to point out road signs. Not only where I might prevent some pain --

But also whether prevention is either necessary or good. It is a mystery.

What if, like me, people have to fall in order to believe the advice to watch where they are stepping?


















There! See how easy it is for me to get off topic? So much less threatening to worry about someone else than to examine myself further.

Nope. This blog is supposed to be about me and about helping me see where I am right now (which requires some looking back to see where I've been).

That I might help or entertain others in the process is not supposed to be the focus.

But how many of my posts reflect "me" avoidance? Surfing the Web for neat stuff is more fun! Further, sharing current events and family history is probably way more interesting to you kids than my ruminations about self discovery.

I am hoping, however, that some of you must surely be more self aware than I have been all of my life. Perhaps my experience will save you some time...

Or maybe only give you some insight into why I might have done some of those things you thought peculiar!

Admit it! There have been times when you wondered what I could have been thinking.
And I don't mean just when you were teens and found your parents deeply embarrassing.

(Although, looking at the picture albums, I really did justify that sometimes... Who was that woman, anyway?! Like me and the friendly (library) gopher snake here...or me and mini skirts there.)

That's what I need to figure out in order to finish my will and testament. The testament being where one gets to say a bunch of things nobody wanted to listen to while one was alive...LOL.

A testament is a way of bridging generations, of making certain that nothing is left unsaid. Like explaining one's successes and failures, one's goals and the progress made on them. Being sure to tell loved ones that they are loved, were always loved, (or not) and specifically why.

Especially why. I was so busy surviving day to day with a dying husband and an unfinished house and two businesses and 5 kids under 16, that I missed a lot of your teens. I didn't tell each one of you just why you are so special, and how proud I am of you.

Or what a bounty it was to have you in my life.

Before I can write a successful testament, I need to go back and really look at that life. Explaining to you all is helping me to figure it out.

You can skip the ramblings and just look at the pix if you want.